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Pagan Paul Jun 2017
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The Land of Poetica is viewed
as far as the eye can see,
reaching out to unknown shores
edging the oceans of infinity.

Each drop is a Lord or a Lady
contributing to the community,
sending out their words of Art
with no judgement nor impunity.

Though storms may hit at times
rocking the boat of security,
waves of the Lords and Ladies
save Poetica from obscurity.

from 'Selected Works'  
by Lord Pagan of Poetica


© Pagan Paul (22/06/17)
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Babra Shafiqi Apr 2017
What's that called I don't remember?
The darkness that creeps up
At night,
In slumber.
In the sudden loss of light.
Even though it's dark here,
I still close my lids to sleep
To grant a wish,
To dive in deep.
Where some cry, most weep.
What's that called when
We tuck ourselves in the bed?
Sing to our ears,
Mourn for what's dead.
In the deep corners of our blanket.
What's the broken thing laying with me?
Oh I remember!
It's the wry thing called a dream.
©Babra Shafiqi.
Please leave a comment and let me know what you think about it.
Graff1980 Feb 2017
If Sylvia Plath
Had come to me
For a ****** reprieve
Or a living loving embrace
I would have raced
To face that lovely face
I would have chased those
Dark and tempestuous eyes
To find passion release
To share one moment of peace
To hear her heart speak
With beat after beat
Even if she broke mine
If she attacked my limbs
Assailed my spirit with her fury
Even if we had to make love in a hurry
None to ever be the wiser
And maybe in the morning spend
Words and verses
Like counterfeit forms of affection
Well, that would be better
Then the release of any *******
JAMIL HUSSAIN Oct 2016
''My imagination of a poet and poetess
sharing their first conversation.''*

Poetess:
Gazing upon your clay-cup,
My eyes judge that you are alike,
So raise your crown, and wake-up,
O' my dreamlike!

Poet:
My soul a boundless wave,
Seeks a ray of light in solitude,
You seem a queen and I a slave,
Perhaps your eyes are hued?

_

Poetess:
O' ruler, disguised in veil,
Thirst in your eyes an ocean for me,
And my soul has pined for such zeal,
You are bliss on earth craving for me.

Poet:
Aroma of your gentle devotion,
And a stir of my visions have raised the wings,
My passion is scattered alike dust in the winds,
O' wise and brave, what is your emotion?

_

Poetess:
Your presence before me, an arrival of moon,
My heart opening its eyelids to a new majesty,
And the soul is dancing in the rapturing monsoon,
O' beautiful, my yearnings lay in your agony.

Poet:
O' elegance of such heavenly delight,
Your beauty a messenger to my heart,
And my soul lay in extremes of your excite,
O' pearl of my pride, my image and my art.

_

Poetess:
O' merchant of intoxicating whispers,
Ecstasy arises from within your tongue,
New clouds of joy are unveiling in my heart,
And may such unity never be apart.

Poet:
O' morning dew, if you dare come close,
My affection wants to hold you in its arms,
Waiting are my kisses on a throne of rose,
And elating are your splendid charms.

_

Poetess:
O' beautiful, O' flowing stream,
Embrace my soul in your captivity,
I desire to be seized in your esteem,
And my heart rests in such festivity.

Poet:
O' blessed wine, O' sweetness of my existence,
Your love arose like the morning sun upon my chest,
Elevating me and pouring like a spring within my breast.

✒ ℐamil Hussain
Pardeep Aug 2016
i kept lying to myself
"everything will be the same"
but after you left
everything changed
the lies we tell ourself only make the pain hurt more.
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